Godforsaken
by merrygolds
Summary: Kara Joshua has survived the 73rd Hunger Games and the 75th Quarter Quell. But now comes the real test: surviving betrayal. [Finnick/OC]
1. of wrath & retribution

He tries to get a firm grip on my upper arms, but I yank away so fast and so violently that all he can do is watch me with widening eyes. The others watch me with startled expressions too. None of them try to approach me after I pull away from Finnick, though, and I'm glad for it; the closer they come, the more I feel like I'm being pinned in.

"Cara, listen to me," starts Finnick.

"No! No, I won't! It's too late for that!" I sob, tears clouding my vision before cascading down my cheeks. "You… You lied to me! You said you would keep me safe… That you loved me, but the only reason you wanted me to be your ally was to save [i]_her_[/i]!" I point accusingly at Katniss but she simply ignores me.

"That wasn't—" starts Haymitch, but he's interrupted by Katniss, who bumps his shoulder rather roughly and glares at her mentor.

"Tell the truth," she spits.

There's a collective sigh that rings through the room as they all swap looks. This infuriates me more. Anger singes my vein, makes my hands curl up into fists, and causes my thoughts to override with images of the final hour in the Games.

[i]_I see the bolt of lightning flash down from the dark sky as Katniss poises herself underneath the tree Beetee had wired up. She's readying herself to shoot Finnick and I'm just inches away from slitting her throat with my knife—but then Finnick shouts something and suddenly she changes her aim. No longer is he in her sights. It's the sky, which is lit up with a growing storm, she's now prepping to shoot. I think it's foolish, that she has a death wish, and don't stick around. _

_I bang my way through the undergrowth of the jungle, screaming Finnick's name as I go, trying to signal him so he'll have time to move and find safe ground. It's only when I reach him and he swings his arm out, slamming it into my throat and resulting into me crashing to the ground, that a slow realization starts to dawn. He quickly strips me of my knife and pricks the blade against the skin of my neck. _

"_Don't move, alright? Stay very still," he says, having to speak quite loudly because of the gathering storm. _

_My eyes are so wide that I can feel them pushing against the sockets while my heart thuds erratically inside my chest. I gulp and try to keep my sights on where he's putting the blade of my weapon, but can't manage to tear my gaze off his bruised and bleeding face. He was turning on me. The promise to keep me safe and always have my back had been cast aside, as if was ever real, and now he was preparing himself to end me. _

As the memories fade and I stagger a little, I stop thinking rationally. Suddenly all I want is to rip pieces of him from his lean body and throw them all of the room till he's begging me like I'd been ready to beg him that night. I want him to feel that fear and betrayal until he's almost sick and on his knees.

An almost feral snarl rips out of my lips as I launch myself at the man who, after everything, I still care too much about. He isn't prepared for my attack and we careen back into some medical equipment. While he tries to cradle me in his arms and steady himself against a wall, I'm digging my fingernails into the shirt he's wearing and starting to rip. A howl emits out of his mouth, urging me on.

"Cara, stop this!" he screams, struggling to grips my wrists.

I don't listen. Instead, I bash my forehead against his, slink to the ground with him, and deliver a swift punch to his left jaw. His head lolls around while his eyes go unfocused. My nails find his skin again and start to pierce through it, drawing blood this time. I pull and tug and yank till there's a steady stream of red liquid coating my skin.

A pair of hands grabs ahold of me just before something pricks my neck. Almost immediately do I feel the effects of what must've been some kind of sedative. The medication seeps into my muscles, easing them, rendering them useless. But I manage to keep my eyes open long enough to glance over at Finnick. He's breathing heavily and holding one of the wounds I'd inflicted while staring over at me in shock.

"Why would you do this?" I manage out between cries. Finnick just stares at me as Haymitch crouches by his side. A loud sob echoes out of my lips. "I hate you," I murmur. "I hate you!"

I scream it as loud as I can before being restrained in a chair two District Thirteen medical workers had positioned me in. Then my eyes become too heavy and the last thing I see before I fall unconscious is Finnick starting to weep.


	2. of second chances & fill-in fathers

The last person I expect to visit me is the drunken mentor from Twelve. He comes in with his hands in his pockets, rattling something in there, grating on my nerves even after a second. With a scowl, I flick my gaze to the opposite wall and stare.

"Don't you think you're being a little immature about this?"

My heart starts to pound quickly in my chest and I strain my wrists against the shackles; if it weren't for them, I'd be attempting to strangle Haymitch right now. He just watches me with slightly narrowed eyes as I try to find some way to get myself out of these restraints, appearing unamused and like he's analyzing me.

"Why don't you just get the hell out?" I snarl.

"Nobody else was willing to try and compromise with you," he sighs, dropping down in a chair near the doorway.

"Compromise with me about what?"

Crossing his legs, he pushes his blonde hair out of his aging face. "We can't have you trying to kill all the Victors, sunshine. Coin's already having a field day with that stunt you pulled with Odair."

I don't have a response to that and just sink back into the bed, wishing I could reach something in order to throw at him.

The truth was that I wasn't angry at anyone else, at least, not like I was with Finnick. I hadn't trusted any of the other Tributes like I had him. I'd given him everything: my body, my trust, my love… And he'd stepped over it all in order to stab me to death.

Swallowing thickly, I pull on the cuffs again, mostly out of habit and because I don't want to think about Haymitch or President Coin. I want to forget everything—I want to forget why I'm here, that I ever went into the Huger Games in the first place, that I'd ever met Finnick Odair—and I was so desperate for this that I was ready to steal some morphling in order to help it ebb away.

A creak sounds and my head snaps up just as Beetee shuffles in. His motions are slow and easy, like he's trying to be quiet, and when he turns to glance at me, he sighs, as if disappointed. He regards Haymitch with a nod as he comes by my bedside.

"I was hoping you'd be resting," he says.

"The drunkard stumbled in and won't leave," I grumble.

Beetee looks at me disapprovingly and I advert my gaze to the floor. I don't feel ashamed, or not as much as I know I should, but I chide myself and try to remember to behave while the District Three Victor is here to see me.

Different than all the others, Beetee was kind to me. In a sense he was my father because as soon as I was a Victor, he was teaching me about mentoring, how to deal with the flashbacks and nightmares, and helping me garner a substantial talent that would keep Snow pleased. He checked up on me frequently while I was home at District Five and quite often we would be spend long amounts of time talking over the phone about an array of topics, though most centered on technology. Beetee had taken over a roll that had never been filled in my life up until now and I loved him for it.

"I'm trying to reason with her, Beetee," starts Haymitch, interrupting my thoughts.

"Because of the incident that happened last week?" asks Beetee, twitching his nose a little.

The news that I had been here so long startles me. Time in this place is hard measured, as there's no sun or any indication of the hour in the room I've been stuck in. I'd thought I'd been in here for a while, but not a week. My skin itches at the thought and I want to get out now.

"When can I leave?"

Beetee pats my hand comfortingly, but doesn't answer my question.

"He nearly bled to death."

"I understand, but keeping her chained up in here isn't doing anything but harboring her anger. Persuade them to let her out and come down to help me, and I'll make sure she doesn't attack Finnick or anyone else."

Haymitch stares at Beetee for a long second, flicking his gaze over to me and then back over to the man who was still patting my hand. He lets out a sigh before rubbing his forehead, then nods a few times.

"Alright. I'll try to get them to let her out, but only under the condition that she stays down there with you," he says.

Beetee, smiles a little, and turns to look at me. "We'll have a good time, Kara. I can show you the new designs for some weapons I'm making. You'll like that."

The thought of helping Beetee make war weapons does intrigue me and as I have no desire to really see anyone else, staying below with him sounds like a splendid deal.

"I'd like that," I smile.

Haymitch leaves a little after the agreement and Beetee takes his chair, scooting it closer to my bedside while telling me to shut my eyes and rest. He holds me hand while I try to fall asleep and even pets my hair some. It eases me and makes me want to cry, all at the same time.

* * *

Beetee is leading me down a hallway, towards the Special Military Weapons room, when I first catch sight of Gale Hawthorne. The tall, dark headed boy eyes me warily as he falls in step alongside Beetee.

"Hello," he calls.

I simply look him over, then flick my gaze forward. I hear as Beetee sighs beside me and cringe a little.

"Kara, this is Gale Hawthorne. He's been helping me design and build some of the weapons." He takes my hand and comfortingly pats it a few times. "I think you two will get along. You both have meticulous minds."

Again, I sweep my eyes over to Gale. He seems to be studying me as I had briefly done him seconds ago and, just like I did, he doesn't seem to find anything too fascinating. But instead of just glancing away uncaringly, he offers me a small smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

"I saw your Games," he says. My body stiffens and I ready myself for the clap on the back a Victor usually received. Instead, though, Gale sticks his big hands in his pockets and his smile falls a little. "I'm sorry they made you do that."

When I stumble a little, Beetee has to help me get walking again, and when I glance confusedly down at him, he just smirks a little. I shoot him a frivolous glare.


	3. of friendships & curiosity

"We have to scrap the whole thing. It's useless now."

Scowling, I slide the plans away from Gale. "No we don't. We can use half of it."

"Are you serious? [i]Half[/i] of it? What're we going to do, cut and paste?" he scoffs. "Besides, there's no telling what the end product will be. It could come out as some kind of atomic bomb and we'd never know till it was too late."

The pessimism that Gale is steeped in has begun to drip onto our weapon plans quite a lot recently and it's annoying me. I know it has something to do with Katniss, but I don't care to ask; all I want is for this lousy coal miner to get himself together long enough for us to finish _something_.

"Go get some fresh air," I grumble, staring down at the drawings.

"I don't need any fresh air. I'm fine."

I look over at him, furrowing my brows in an angry stare he ignores with ease. He leans forward to reach for some controls that adjust a set of cameras perched and ready to take in the surroundings of District Thirteen, but I slap at his knuckles. A huff is his reply to my childish behaviors. He takes to leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"You need to knock that chip off your shoulder, Thorny," I begin. "You're mucking up all the plans."

There's a beat of silence, then a sigh, followed by a grumble of barely audible words. "I know. It's just… Katniss."

"I don't care what's wrong with you. Just get over it so we can make some progress."

When I look over at him, Gale is staring at me rather quizzically out of the corner of his eye, as if contemplating whether or not to divulge something. I know what he wants to share and the thought of having to help him with that kind of problem makes the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. I can't do it. Things like that haven never been something I was ever any good at.

"Kat—"

"Gale," I hiss, turning on him. "Shut up!"

"You wanted me to get the chip off my shoulder!" he calls back.

"But not by using me as a therapist!"

I turn back to the plans while he scoffs and scowls in his chair.

Gale and I had become friends, if you can call it that. He spends a lot of time in the Special Weapons room and as I'm not allowed to go anywhere else in Thirteen, we'd connected a little over our fast minds and enjoyment of creating such powerful things. Sour and moody, Gale was someone I found easy to handle because his personality was so much like mine; I knew the way he thought, what his next plan of action was going to be, and because he was so easy to unravel, I felt comfortable around him. It was an easy friendship that he didn't push and I didn't give much thought to.

"What about you and Odair, then?"

My head whips around and I glare hotly at him. "Don't bring him up," I snarl.

"Why not? Don't you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Why would I want to talk about that?"

"Dunno," he shrugs. "Might help you not be so angry."

Before I know it, I'm leaning close to his face, my eyes narrowed even more and my jaw clenched. My fingers ache to go around his throat and poke his eyes through their sockets. I refrain myself, though. This is Gale and he's been patient with me. I liked him. _I musn't hurt him._

"I'm angry because I had to murder twenty-three children for the entertainment of some stupid airheads. I'm angry because I can't sleep at night anymore. I'm angry because I had to do things after I won the Games that no one should even think about." I pause and take in a deep breath. "I'm angry because none of that was good enough and I was forced back into the arena. I'm angry that the Games not only took away my humanity, but my grandmother too.

"I'm not angry that I let myself be fooled by someone like Finnick Odair. I'm angry because I let myself be used by something as disgusting as the Hunger Games and it still wasn't good enough."

Gale stares at me, shocked and with his eyes widened. He doesn't look afraid, though. Instead, my new friend looks sad.

He swallows, then, tentatively, rests a big hand on my shoulder. Slowly he eases it around my back and uses his brute strength to draw me into his chest. I'm too stunned to do anything but rest against his body. _I had not predicted him doing that._

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I saw your Games… I saw what you did, but I had no idea about the rest of it."

The affectionate contact makes tears well up my eyes and the uncomfortable feeling from before blow through my body. Clearing my throat and blinking rapidly, I shove myself out of his arms. I shuffle back over to my seat and try not to sniffle.

"Let's not talk about it. Let's just focus on these plans."

When I look over, Gale is nodding and trying to smile, though his grin ends up being faint. He slides his chair beside mine. Before I can reach for a pencil in order to start making some edits to the drawing Beetee had presented us with this morning, Gale rests his hand on top of mine. I keep my gaze on the paper littered tabletop.

"I'm not going to say anything else about it, but I've been hearing some stuff, you know… from Katniss. I think you should talk to him, Kara. Might do you both some good."

"Is that what would you would do?" I ask quietly.

I don't know why I ask that. I guess, in the back of my mind, the curiosity to hear some sort of explanation leave his lips has been slowly pecking away and it was getting harder and harder to ignore. Maybe it was some sick way of torturing myself—maybe the Games had instilled that in me… I wasn't sure. But I wanted someone else to reassure me that talking to Finnick wasn't a completely crazy idea.

Gale squeezes my hand. "No, I'd knock his teeth down his throat."

The tension in the room evaporates and I roll my eyes while leaning over to land a punch on his shoulder. Gale just laughs.


	4. of explanations & veracity

My fingers are curled into fists at my side and my jaw is clenched so tightly that the muscles there have begun to ache. Inside my chest, my heart is pounding out a rhythm I'm sure can be heard by the two guards waiting at the exit. I try not to think about that so my cheeks won't flame up.

There are no distractions in this room, though. It's dull and filled to the brim with the usual bareness that I've become accustomed to while staying in Thirteen. However, sitting across from me, eyeing me carefully, is Finnick. Every once in a while he'll shift his position in the chair and I'll allow my gaze to flit over to him. It's only a miniscule second later that I draw them back to the plain tiles of the floor.

In the end, it had been Beetee who finally helped persuade me into having this meeting. Gale had kept his word and hadn't said anything more about the Games or Finnick. Obviously that had left the only other person in my life to try and help me patch up the nasty shambles that was Finnick and I's relationship. It had taken an entire week before I'd let rationality win.

I draw in a steady breath while tightening my fists. In my mind, I tell myself that this will be good. At the very least I'll get some sort of release. It'll help me let him go. I [i]needed[/i] to let him go. By nature I was a rather miserable person, but add being used by something else, namely something else that I'd quite cared for, and I was too depressed to function remotely right. Getting rid of that sorrow would make me feel lighter, thus allowing me to perform rather normally.

He clears his throat abruptly, but I just furrow my brows. I want to talk… I want to clear the air and cut all ties, but I don't know how. Communication was never something I'd been very good at.

"Are you even going to look at me, Kara?" he asks softly.

My reply is stiff. "I don't want to attack you again."

A beat of silence drifts in between us again. The guards at the doors move at my words, but I ignore them. I don't plan to attack him. It wouldn't be smart.

"I'll talk, then. You just listen." He clears his throat again. "Is that alright?"

I just nod.

Before he begins, he shifts his chair. I can imagine him angling his body closer to the table that was separating us.

"We wouldn't have been able to get out of there if it wasn't for you. Beetee did a considerably amount, of course. If you hadn't been helping him, though, I don't think he would have been so successful."

There's another short gap of silence and I think he's waiting for me to say something. I just stare at the floor and try to not pummel him for having Beetee's name in his mouth.

He scoots his chair closer again. I feel the table jiggle when he bumps into it.

"I saw you when Katniss was aiming at me, right before the thunder storm. You were going to kill her in order to save me, weren't you?"

This time, I feel like I have to answer. "I couldn't let her do that to you. You'd done too much to help her."

"You're not going to believe me. It's ridiculous for me to expect you to, I know that." He pauses and when he draws in a steady breathe, I glance up at him. I swallow hard so tears won't pool in my eyes. "I did what I did because I wanted to save you too."

Scowling, I nearly lurch over the table for him. One of the guards is quickly at my shoulder and sitting me back down in the chair. Finnick's expression transforms from one of grief, to one of startling realization. I wonder if I wore that same look when he'd tried to stab me to death.

"Don't say that! You weren't trying to save me! You were going to murder me, but Beetee stopped you!"

I pause and draw in a few deep breathes. The guard grips my shoulder tighter. A warning to calm down, or else. I unclench my fists and dig my nails into my thighs.

"Don't try and take the noble way out. Admit that you double crossed me—that you fucked me because you knew no other way to get me to ally with you and Katniss. _Be honest_."

He scoffs and I nearly yank myself towards him again.

"Is that what you think?" He asks.

"That's what I know!"

Finnick leans halfway over the table, banging his palm down on top of it. The other guard rushes over and takes position behind him. He readies to grab him. I welcome the thought of him attacking me, though. The idea to calmly talk this out is long gone and now I just want to jab my nails into his throat.

"I was looking for your tracker! You wouldn't have been able to get out of the arena with that in you and I couldn't leave you behind. The plan was that those who were getting out had to have that removed and we had to wait to the last minute to do that."

He takes a deep breath in and sits back in his chair. Crossing his arms over his chest, he adverts his eyes to the floor.

"I didn't fuck you, Kara. I made love to you… I was trying to save you because I love you."

My mind blanks at that.


	5. of realization & confession

Nobody stares at me, except Posy, Gale's little sister. I manage a faint grin that she blushes at and tip the rest of my breakfast into her bowl. She scoots a little closer to me on the bench as she eats it.

The rest of the inhabitants of Thirteen don't pay me any attention. Instead of ogling the almost-killer of the striking Finnick Odair, they mumble , eat their breakfast and then leave in order to carry out their assigned jobs. I try not to wonder why I am not a topic of gossip. I duck my head low and breathe easier, grateful that no one cares about my new presence in the cafeteria.

It seems that all I needed to do in order to please President Coin and be granted free roam of Thirteen was have a conversation with Finnick. I don't know if she thought that would immediately resolve things or if she was hoping he'd break me so much that I wouldn't be anything but a shell. As much as I don't want to admit it, I think the latter is what has happened.

After Finnick's admittance, I'd left the room. My brain had been whirring with too many things and my chest had suddenly begun to ache with a sharp pain that had made me gasp. I'd found Beetee in the war room and laid my head in his lap as I'd cried. He'd just petted my hair while gently cooing for me to tell him what's wrong.

It's been four days and I haven't managed to draw up the courage to even think about what to do. I avoid it by rough housing with Gale, getting tutored by Beetee, and restocking the hospital storage rooms every day. It's not a lot, but the work consumes my mind.

But I can't avoid it today. It's the first time since my arrival at Thirteen that I've eaten in the cafeteria with everyone else. I don't know why I hadn't worked out the fact that he would be in here when Gale had cheerily motioned for me to tag along with him and his younger siblings. Now I feel stupid and I want to slink away, back down to the darkness of the weapons room.

"What's wrong, Kara?" asks Posey.

This question draws Gale's attention from the conversation he was having with Rory, one of his younger brothers, and both Hawthorne's look over at me. Beetee just reaches over to pay my hand, but continues to read his book and spoon porridge into his mouth.

"I can't do this, Gale," I ground out.

He leans over the table. "He's not going to come over and eat breakfast with you, for Christ's sake."

"Mommy said you're not supposed to say that!" interjects Posey.

He ignores her.

"He's not going to try and make a scene in the cafeteria, Kara," says Gale.

I slowly scan my gaze over to where he's sitting with Annie, the little mad girl he'd mentored two years after my Games. He's squeezed in relatively close and appears to be chuckling as he murmurs something into her ear. She giggles at it like a young school girl before falling into his chest.

My fingertips dig into the tabletop. In my chest, my heart has begun to thud so fast that I think I might be having a heart attack. I try to take deep breaths in order to calm myself.

I don't know why I feel so jealous. I thought I hated Finnick, but watching as he laughs so charismatically with Annie and how he gently touches her arm makes tears spring into my eyes and my body tremble. I don't want him to do that to her. I want him to be sitting here with me. But he's way over there with the little mad girl and I can't draw the courage nor the strength to right this whole situation.

I'm not prepared for when he flicks his gaze over to me. I freeze, my fingernails digging in so hard to the table top that I feel my knuckles and fingertips ache with pain. His sea-green eyes lock with mine for an unnumbered amount of seconds. He doesn't lower them to take me in or try to make them shine with a smile. He just stares at me as Annie giggles still.

At the feel of Posey trying to hold my hand and someone pulling on my shoulder, I manage to look away.

"Come on, Kara," Beetee gently murmurs from behind me. "Let's you, Gale and I head down to the weapons room."

"I got that new plan ready. It's waiting for you to tear it to shreds," Gale chuckles.

He herds his younger siblings over to where his mother is sitting with Katniss and Mrs. Everdeen, then slips his arm around my waist in order to help guide me out of the cafeteria.

I send one longing glance over my shoulder at Finnick. He has returned his attention back to Annie, though. The two nearly have their foreheads pressed together.

I swallow down bile while resting my head on Gale's shoulder.

[center]- - -[/center]

"Why didn't you just come over and sit with us?"

At the sound of the voice, I snap around, my eyes wide and my system on alert.

Finnick is leaning up against the doorway and watches me with bright eyes. I swallow hard.

"What?" I ask.

"This morning. Why didn't you come sit with me and Annie?"

I almost snort. Turning back around, I start to flip through the plans I'd drawn up.

"Don't think I could stomach being that close to the two of you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he scoffs.

I don't answer.

"Jesus, Kara! Did you really forget about that little conversation we had? Or was I the only one who was there when I said I love you?"

"No," I murmur. "I was there."

I hear as he comes farther in the room and go to draw away when he takes the seat next to me, but he grabs my hand.

"Well then, what is this? Are you still mad at me?"

I stare down at our hands, watching the way he runs his thumb over my skin. It's slow and gentle, and he doesn't leave any untouched. I have to swallow and blink hard so I won't start crying.

Drawing my gaze up, I stare at him with watering eyes. His brows furrow and he leans in closer.

"I'm scared," I whisper.

The look that sweeps over his face is heartbreaking, but I can't look away. He's so beautiful.

Without a word and without warning, Finnick uses his free hand to cup my cheek, then closes the gap between our bodies in order to press his soft lips against mine.


	6. of queries & resurrections

**Authors Note: **_This is NOT the final chapter! I still have a few to edit and write. ;)_

* * *

Our relationship is broken up in increments of progress and regress. I know it's not his fault. He was willing to stay with me all night and kiss every single tear that trickled down my cheek. I, however, was too scared. New things weren't easy for me to adapt to.

His kiss was still lingering on my lips. I could still remember how he tasted and the way his rough palms had breezed over the skin of my face. A second was how long I'd been prepared to let it last. But Finnick had slid his arms around my waist so tightly I could do nothing but whimper against his mouth. My head told me to let him go. He'd broken my trust with dishonesty. But my heart was aching so bad with the need for him to be with me.

I'd asked Beetee how one is supposed to choose which one to follow, but the old District Three genius had just smiled at me.

"That's cheating," he'd murmured.

He'd reached over to smooth down my frizzy hair and lovingly pecked my forehead.

"You have to figure this out on your own, my darling."

So that's what I'm trying to do now. Everything is logic to me—or it had been, till the golden devil had sashayed into it. Now it's a tangled mess of heat and fear and swollen lips. And I don't know how to navigate in such a state. It wasn't like the Games. In there, everything was planning and perfect timing. There is no such thing as planning when it comes to Finnick Odair, and perfect timing is out the window when you're living in a war.

Now, as I lay on my side, facing a metal wall that makes up my new room, I try to picture how things would be if I let Finnick call me his. I think it would be nice. Of course I wouldn't really know what to do and he'd have to let me find my way…But I think it's something that a person like me needs in their life. I'm too hard, I know. Finnick is soft and warm. I need some of that, desperately.

I wonder, though, if he'd be able to peel back the layers of protection I've wrapped myself up in. He'd almost begun to unravel me before, during the Quell, but that seems like years ago. Too much has happened and I'm colder than before. It won't be a simple fix that he can cure with his skilled hands and perfect body. Like everything else when I'm concerned, it'll take time. I cannot be rushed.

Will he wait for me? Will he be patient with me? I know he's already endured too much at my expense. I don't know if he's already reached his limit.

These questions and doubts push at my brain till I'm shoving myself up and looking through the halls for his room. I don't want to wait anymore. I want answers. I want to ask Finnick. This won't be like the Quell, where I didn't know anything. This time I will be upfront and speak my mind. I won't be scared.

His room is the last in a hall that a Thirteen inhabitant points me towards. I listen for a second to see if he has company and only knock after I hear nothing. A second or three passes as I shift in the hallway. I glance around in search for anyone else who is lingering around, but there is no one. I wonder if it is late into the night.

"Kara."

The sound of my name diverts my attention back to the door. Finnick is now there, halfway leaning out and grinning a little. I almost blush.

"I…"

I swallow and form a fist. Finnick notices but does nothing. He just furrows his eyebrows before leaning in closer.

"I want to talk to you," I manage out.

He nods. "Yea, sure. Come in."

The room is decorated lightly with a few photographs. I see Mags and smile lightly while approaching the frame. The old woman is trying to slink out of the picture, but the person behind the camera has grabbed her hand. She looks happy and young. Swallowing hard, I try not to think about how she died.

The other pictures are of people I don't know. I won't ask now because my brain is too occupied with other thoughts, but I make a note to bring it up later.

"You alright?"

His breath fans over the back of neck, alerting me to how close is. But I don't jump away. Instead, I sink back into him a little and reach for his hand. I can feel how much this surprises him. It makes me feel bad.

"I'm fine," I whisper. "I just have something to ask you."

Deciding to turn around, I try to smile lightly at him. It doesn't seem to work, however, and Finnick's expression just becomes even more worried.

"Okay. Ask me, then," he says.

I nod and draw in a deep breath.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I let the words roll of my tongue.

"Will you be patient with me?"

I am disappointed at how weak my tone is. It wavers too much and is so quiet that I wonder if Finnick even heard it. When he just stares at me, I sigh.

"I want you. I really do. I just… This is new to me. Before… I didn't realize we were something," I say softly. "I don't know how to be with you and… And it's going to take some time. But I want to try."

My chest is supposed to feel lighter, I think. I'd just admitted something that had been weighing on me ever since he'd explained his actions. I feel heavier, though, like I've swallowed a bunch of rocks. The feeling makes me frown a little.

Finnick tucks a finger underneath my chin and tilts my head up. I hadn't realized I'd been staring down where he was now gripping my waist.

"Kara, I'll wait as long as it takes," he whispers.

I almost cry. The tears pool in my eyes and I try to shut them so they don't fall, but the actions just seems to make them swell up bigger.

Gently, I press my forehead against his and smile. I laugh, too, because this was a lot easier than I ever thought it would be. He'd just gave me the answer I'd been fearfully hoping for in a matter of seconds. Just like that. Without any kind of back thought or terms he'd want me to follow. Finnick had just given himself over without so much as a guarantee from me.

He must love me. That's the only explanation I can think of. And it makes me slam my lips against his passionately.


	7. of once mores & smithereens

**Authors Note:** _Thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! Glad you pretty lot are liking the story. :) Only one chapter left!_

* * *

Taking a breath now was easy. There was nothing pushing down on my chest anymore. When I draw in air, it's an action that doesn't make the beating thing inside my body ache. The movement is fluid and clean, ridden of the black thoughts and scary desires. It feels so much better than ever before.

Usually, whenever I was so close to another human being, inhaling and exhaling would be a chore. People use to make me nervous—certain ones still do. But not Finnick. Not anymore. I can lie here in his arms with an ease that doesn't even scare me anymore. It's a freedom I do not take for granted.

"What're you thinking about?" he whispers into my ear.

His breath pushes over the right side of my face. I smile involuntarily.

"How easy most things are now," I murmur.

When I glance up, his tired gaze is inquisitive. He doesn't understand.

I chuckle a bit before nuzzling closer to his side. He readjusts his arms to accommodate me.

"Before, I couldn't even breathe right. I… Everything was so difficult for me."

I pause and think over how I'd like to explain this to him. I wonder about editing things out, clipping the bad bits away. But I know he won't like that. Despite how dark all this will be, I know he'll want to know everything.

"I had nothing. Trying to live when you don't have anything is hard," I say, my tone low.

Finnick squeezes me gently and I feel as his warm lips press to my forehead, to the top of my head.

"You've always had something, Kara. Whether you've been aware of it or not, I've always been yours," he explains.

I pull him in for a kiss, forgetting about how exhausted I previously was in favor of remembering how good it felt to be kissed by him, to be touched by him.

* * *

No one will look at me. That is how I know something bad has happened. It's like before, when we'd been pulled from the arena. Everyone is avoiding their gaze to the floor. It makes me uneasy. I think I know why the inhabitants remaining can't bring themselves to peer at me, though. The thought is one I don't mean to think, but I'm a logical person. It's the only solution that makes sense.

Finally, after a few seconds of the torturous silence, Katniss steps forward. Her eyes are swollen and red. She's been mourning her sister. I am surprised that she has decided to give me the news. I've never hid my dislike for her.

"I'm sorry," she gets out.

Her tone is weak and breaks in many places. She starts shaking the longer she stands in front of me.

Swallowing, I stare directly at her. I don't know if the Girl on Fire has enough bravery and grit left to tell me that Finnick is dead. She seems to be drawing strength from my silence, though. Maybe she knows I need to hear it as much as she needs to say it.

"We…I couldn't do anything. I would have, but it happened too fast," she whispers.

Tears have started to stream down her cheeks. I don't know if it's because she actually told me what no one else would or if my worst fears have been confirmed, but I start crying too. I don't sob, though. Water just pours out of my eyes and I can't stop it. I think my chest is breaking too.

"He was brave, Kara. He died trying to build a better life."

That's Haymitch. I don't look at him. The old drunken mentor doesn't say anything else. But I hear footsteps. They're cautious, slow. The smell of fresh soap lets me know that Beetee is the one who is now at my right. Gently, he grips my elbow, but touches no other part of me. It's support just in case I need it.

I continue to stare at Katniss. As I peer at the girl who incited this whole thing, I feel like I am the one who is on fire. But I'm not angry at her anymore. I understand now. My mind wasn't clouded with the haze of blame anymore.

Finnick fought just like she had. He wanted a better life for whatever had been prepared to welcome us in the future. Katniss wanted the same thing for her and Peeta. I cannot hate someone who just wanted to be in a world that wasn't so dangerous and maddening. I cannot. It is too much like my own dreams.

The flames that I feel eating me from the inside out are made of the unknown. How do I get up from this? What would Finnick and I have had if he'd lived to see a new future with me? Would we have had children? Grandchildren?

I feel myself cracking. Katniss is still crying in front of me. She doesn't even try to appear strong anymore. She is shattering just like I am.

I don't think anyone expects what I do next. I hear the sudden scuffle of feet scratching against the floor of Snow's mansion. Someone gasps but it's not out of fear; they're surprised.

I'm wrapped around Katniss, clutching to her like I need her to help give me life. The girl from Twelve barely can grasp fistfuls of my shirt that is gathered too much at my sides. She cries harder as she leans her head onto my shoulder. I squeeze and squeeze, stopping only when I'm afraid that I will hurt her.

When I glance over her shoulder, I spy Gale. He is in plain sight towards the back. The look he wears as he watches Katniss and I envelop each other is one of sadness. I he knows what it my enveloping Katniss so strongly signals.

I am broken again and who knows if there will be enough of Beetee's bolts and my friend's smiles to bind me back together this time.

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**Authors** Note: _Make sure to review and tell me what you think the final chapter is going to be like! ^.^_


	8. of a future & conclusions

There is a little girl with dark brown hair giggling through a patch of tall wildflowers. She roves through the weeds like they're branches of good luck that she desperately needs to touch. But I know my Celine doesn't need any good luck. She's too well-protected by the strong arms of the man who shoots out from the space next to me. He scoops her up and laughs as she giggles madly.

"Mommy!" she calls.

I wave as another splash of laughter trickles out of her mouth.

"Mommy cannot save you!" laughs the dark haired man.

Then it's a mad dash back through the patch of wildflowers. A few other children manage to escape their parents and join the two. The tall, broad shouldered man seems to give up then. He surrenders with raised hands and starts for the blanket I'm stretched out on.

I grin widely when he nears, opening my arms because I want him in them. He happily falls down in between my legs and lets me wrap them around his torso. When I bend around for a kiss, he obliges fervently.

One of his big hands comes up to cradle the back of my head as his tongue deliciously allows me to get a taste of him. I almost moan as his lips slowly pull away from mine.

"She's feisty like you," he chuckles.

I can't open my eyes. I'm still too lost in the kiss.

"I think she gets that from you, sweetheart," I hum.

I nuzzle into the side of his neck where I press a few quick kisses to his warm skin. He bends into me, stretching one of his big hands to my thigh. When he lets out a happy sigh, I grin wide.

I pull back to lounge out on the blanket again while allowing my fingers to begin to trail through his thick hair.

"I think it's the both of us. She was doomed from the beginning."

A loud laugh pushes out from my chest at hearing this. I have to agree, though. My daughter wasn't going to be blessed with the soft, flowing nature of an easy-going person. Especially not when her father was Gale Hawthorne and her mother was a character like me.

"It suits her, though. She wouldn't be our daughter if she wasn't so spirited."

Gale nods as he leans further back. He presses his back against me while resting some of his weight on his elbows. One of his big hands has trailed down from my thigh and is now making invisible patterns on my lower leg. He still wears a content smile

"Do you think little Finn will be anything like her?"

I glance over to the sleeping baby resting to the right of Gale and I. Like Celine, he has his father's thick mop of dark brown hair. It rests in loose spirals here and there on his small skull while a few pieces have teetered onto his forehead.

Smiling, I reach out to grab one of the baby's small hands and begin to stroke his knuckles.

"No," I quietly begin. "He'll be gentle."

"Like him," Gale says.

My fingers had halted their movement when I'd reached for my baby, but now they also slide out of Gale's tresses. I let them fall onto his broad shoulder.

I don't cry anymore out of sadness for Finnick. The tears stopped years ago, after my wedding night and Gale had promised to kiss all of my scars. But I do tear up. I almost weep because I see the life I've created, one I know that Finnick would've wanted for me. These children aren't his and another man is making love to me at night, but I know my past love would be happy. I am living and that would be enough for someone who so selflessly loved me.

Gale sits up and turns his body around to face me. He gently runs the pad of his thumb over Finn's cheek before facing me fully. With his two big hands, he cups my cheeks. I gladly lean into him while gripping the material of his shirt that rests at his sides.

"Yea, he'll be like him," I eventually say.

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**Authors Note:** _And so, this story has come to an end. I'm so proud that a lot of you guessed Gale in your reviews! I was pleasantly surprised that many of you were flowing in the same direction as I was. _

_I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited. You're the sole reason this story even got an ending, to be honest. The support I've received has been absolutely amazing. I can't even believe people liked my story enough to even read it past the first chapter! Haha. _

_I hope you all have a lovely day! Also, if you'd like to see what else I write (hint: if I write a prequel to this story), then make sure you're following me! That's the only way you'll know. Again, many thanks and best wishes! xoxo_


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